


Echoes

by tincturedwords



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Afterlife, Angst, Angst and Feels, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Emotional, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Ghosts, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Hallucinations, Hurt, Loss, Male Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Memories, Past Character Death, Platonic Relationships, Post-Final Fantasy XV, Remembrance, Sappy Ending, Spirits, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:34:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26557447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tincturedwords/pseuds/tincturedwords
Summary: Darkness has been purged from the land and with it so have the daemons that once stalked the night, but there will always be ghosts to haunt the hearts of those that lived to see the light.Or, Libertus reminisces and gets to say goodbye.
Relationships: Cor Leonis & Libertus Ostium, Crowe Altius & Libertus Ostium, Crowe Altius & Pelna Khara & Libertus Ostium & Nyx Ulric, Libertus Ostium & Nyx Ulric, Pelna Khara & Libertus Ostium, Titus Drautos | Glauca & Cor Leonis
Kudos: 8





	Echoes

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** Spoilers! Canon Character Death , Death Mention , Grief / Mourning , Strong Language , etc.  
>  **Timeline:** Set post _Final Fantasy XV_ game  
>  **Pairings:** Gen. None.  
>  **A/N:** I recently had to say a permanent goodbye to my cat & I am very devastated over not having her in my life anymore , so this will probably be the last thing I post for awhile. This was already written way beforehand , but since I haven’t felt up for anything I’m posting it anyway as a way to let anyone following my stories know what has happened.  
> I have no beta so all mistakes are mine & I didn’t much edit this because of what’s happened irl & the themes this has , I just couldn’t.
> 
> * * *
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own any rights to _Final Fantasy XV : Kingsglaive_ nor do I own the rights to _Final Fantasy XV_. Neither am I associated with Square Enix , or any of the other production companies nor the actors who portray these characters. I make no money off any of my stories , this is purely for entertainment purposes.

> “ Friends come into our lives and friends leave our lives. But friends never leave our hearts. And best friends always get to stay in the best places in our hearts. ” **\- John M. Simmons, The Marvelous Journey Home**

Waking to darkness had become a routine occurrence during the ten years of night. The need to conserve what power they did have had left simulating daylight a want of desire and that of true dawn to finally break a hope they all had clung to. Everyone had had to become accustomed to navigating in the pitch to a certain degree until a reliable light source could be reached, and even then it had to be used sparingly. 

All apart of living without and embracing the suck, or so Libertus had kept reminding himself of the old saying his friends would pop off with whenever a deployment had been ridiculously shit. The line had never failed to spur a chorus of agreement along with sardonic scoffs and laughs. It’s memory had brought smiles, small reverent ones, to Libertus’ face whenever it came to mind. Usually at a particularly sucky moment. It had made the time a touch easier to bear, whilst not the most eloquent nor profound memory of his brothers and sister, it was both meaningful and motivating. So candidly them in that brand of humour. 

Diatomically it both eased and sharpened the ache that accompanied thoughts of the past. Regrets and guilt mingled with grief and longing. At war they stood with the relief and degree of peace that Libertus now held since the scourgae had been purged from the land, taking the long night and daemons with it. Even the evil driving force behind Niflhiem’s ravenous want of power was gone. And Gods how he wished Crowe, Nyx, and Plena had lived to see it. 

Raising a hand to rub at his eyes before those thoughts could etch themselves too deeply into his conscious mind this morning, Libertus sat up on the cot he’d claimed for the night. There would be time later for roominating, but when the day would require his utmost attention and a clar head, starting out his day with it wasn’t wise. Experience had told him as much. 

Blinking the rest of the sleep from his eyes, he pulled back the scratchy blanket and moved to sit on the edge of the metal framed cot. The titled flooring was cold against the bottom of his feet, it’s icy chill leeching at the warmth being under the wool blanket had created. Even his socks couldn’t keep the cold from seeping through them. An involuntary shiver ran down his spine at the sensation. He was certainly awake now at least. 

Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly. His ear picking up the various snores of the others. It seemed most everyone else was still sleeping, their slumbering snuffles filled the silence of the dark room. Men and women of the ‘glaive were scattered about the repurposed room; some were on double bunks brought in from the hideouts, but most slept on cots like libertus’, although a few were on the floor in bedrolls. 

With sections of the Citadel still being cleared and thus off limits to most, this was where Cor had set up to house them until further notice. Most likely until more order and form could be organised amongst everyone. New positions had to be filled, new titles granted, and operations set up. An entire overhaul of everything that’d been their way of life, the last ten years of it and before that. 

For in spite of the newfound peace and light, there was much rebuilding to be done. A chance to recover from a decade spent in a darkness where daemons ran paramount and each day had been a test of surviving. But too they couldn’t simply fall back into the old way of running things, too much had changed and been lost to go back to that brand of normal. 

Thus the reason why Libertus needed a clear mind to face the day, there was more than a lot to be done if they hoped to get everything running with a modicum of order before the majority of civilians that were living in Lestallum, and various other cities that'd been converted into strongholds, started pouring into Insomnia. Returning home… 

Venting another soft sigh, Libertus glanced at his watch, the numbers telling him that dawn was still another hour off. But unable to fall back asleep nor did he think simply laying back down to wait would be particularly healthy this morning, he quietly reached for his boots that stood side-by-side, tucked flush against the cot’s legs at the end of it. Slipping his feet into them and lacing them up with precise precision, years of practice had his fingers trained in the movements long before the reign of darkness had made it mandatory to suit up without light more often than not.

Equally as quiet, he pushed off the cot’s frame to stand, then grabbing his uniform coat from where it laid just above his abysmally flat pillow, he gingerly began to make his way through the sparse rows of sleeping ‘glaives. Mindful of where each step he placed, for waking anyone else and having irritated questions asked of him was the last thing he wanted this morning. And too he’d hate to be the reason for someone else’s loss of sleep. 

Successfully making it to the edge of the room nearest the door, Libertus slipped through with no more sound than a muffled thump when the door latched closed once more. Pausing afterwards with a soft sigh, he shrugged on his coat. The morning air was cool and crisp despite being indoors. One of the troubles they’d all been trying to sort out, the distribution and production of the still limited resources. By one meaning, electricity for heating. 

Shifting to settle the worn fabric, he quickly latched up the front of it and clicked on his LED clip light. It rested on the upper portion of his left epaulette within quick and easy reach. Still it remained a must when walking around the Citadel during the night or early mornings before daylight could brighten the halls, at least until they figured the electricity for lighting right along with the heating. 

The long hallway felt endless in the predawn setting, it’s expanse stretching outside the reach of the aged LED light. Casting long shadows held little form nor definite shape due to the decaying nature of the LED. An odd irony that the light he’d carried throughout the years of night, it having survived long past its shelf life and through countless skirmishes fought during that time. It'd always turned on and worked throughout many hours of use, off any brand of battery he could find. It remained steadfast and reliable. Yet now he could see the decreased range, it’s fading hue and diminished strength. 

But still it shined to the best of it’s ability as Libertus walked down the length of the hall. Both unbothered by the low levels of light as it’d been the natural state of the world for the last decade, however too he was unsettled by it. Longer having spent knowing nefarious and deadly creatures awaited in the shadows for an opportune moment to strike. The lack of daemons would take more time to grow used to than becoming accustomed to the sun rising every morning again. 

Having been raised on cautionary tales of daemons at night and constant warnings to be back inside before the street lamps flicked on. The wall having been pulled back from Galahd whenever Libertus was just an infant, not even of walking age, thus threat of daemons and war were always on the minds of his parents. Worries of adults, until they became worries of his own when he was old enough to understand the significance to his parent’s instructions and the dangers that lurked outside their homes. Not that he and Nyx had been particularly misbehaving kids, but they had been a few times when they’d tested both their parents’ patience. 

Shaking his head against the memories of the canyon incident especially, Libertus focused more so on where his steps were taking him. Recognising this portion of the CItadel, he scoffed at his own actions. Without any thought to it he’d been walking towards the section of the Citadel that’d once belonged to the Kingsglaive. 

A set of training rooms that lead to the outdoor training arena, a small refectory complete with a rotating on-shift bunkhouse of ten beds, the briefing room, war room, a block of offices in their own or shared rooms, a converted rec room, a set of bathrooms attached to their respective locker rooms, and a tiny infirmary all made up their section. It was adjacent to the Crowngaurd one, of similar design, just bigger to accommodate their greater numbers. 

Seeing it again after so long left a bitter twang rising in Libertus’ chest. He wasn’t certain he could withstand the memories it’d dredge up, already they were teeming within his mind’s eye. Having spent the majority of his adulthood here in Insomnia a part of the Kingsglaive. A full ten years at it before it’s Fall. Unable to forget his own instrumental part in that, it still twinged acutely and tainted each memory he held of his late friends. Knowledge that he’d been a factor in their deaths, in the deaths of many to their ranks and more. Although now forgiven by the Gods, it was still something that haunted his heart and blackened his dreams. 

Turning to retreat had him facing the door he knew housed the war room, it was adjacent to the briefing room that he couldn’t quite bring himself to enter more so than the rest. The last address heard there by Drautos was still a memory cask in sharp clarity. It’s presence left a prickling feeling along his mind that he didn’t wish to let fester, but the war room could possibly still house some documents or information that Cor would want rounded up. Thus it wasn’t a room he could leave to one of the others, unless it was Cor himself, but the Marshal had his hands full already. More so lately than usual. 

Swiping his fingers along the dust riddled keypad that ensured the door wouldn’t open to anyone without an access code. It ran off it’s own battery system within a compartment accessible through the wall form inside the room. After ten years, Libertus wondered if it even still held any power to click on, let alone operate long enough for him to input his code and open the automatic locks. The panel didn’t brighten when he pressed his thumb against the tiny keys, not a blip nor blink, proving his thoughts to be right. 

Blithely sighing, Libertus tried the door handle anyway. If anything he could vent a private moment of frustration by trying to jam the door open. Although it proved a yielding target, jumping open with a harsh scraping noise and screaming creek from its hinges. Libertus scrambled side step several times to keep from losing his balance as the door continued the momentum set against it and swung open all the way. 

Leaving him standing partway in the room, his light illuminated the area well enough to see the row of computers along the far wall, the conference table that was near the front of the room, the whiteboards that still had writing scrawled along their surfaces, the maps table that stood just to the right of it, and the workbenches at the back that held a single coffee pot along with a mini refrigerator on the farthest one. A row of perfectly placed mugs and bowls sat atop the little fridge along with a tray of plastic silverware. Papers still lay strewn about the tabletops surfaces, various pencils, pens, markers lay where their owners last left them. Chairs too remained where they were pulled out or shoved aside.

Although he wondered if it was merely memory mapping out the room for him in such detail for his light’s reach was dim towards the outer edges, giving only the barest of shapes for objects and drowning any colours in monochrome. One detail that he could have gone without spying, despite knowing it’d be present, was that of a single coffee mug set beside the nearest computer along the back wall. The ceramic’s shine gleamed even in the low light, that was what had drawn Libertus’ attention to it once he’d taken in the room.

A breath left him at seeing the mug. Releasing the door handle, he stepped further into the room, headed for where the innocently left mug sat untouched for all these years. It was a standard break room mug, glossy black with a white Kingsglaive insignia printed on one side. This one however held an imperfection. A slight chip along the rim of the mug stood out starkly against the black paint, the white ceramic beneath it showing. 

Reaching out to brush a finger over the rough chip, Libertus couldn't recall how or when it’d been chipped, but he did remember how Pelna had claimed it as his mug. Uncaring that the mug would heat right along with whatever liquid was microwaved in it due to the break in the glaze, he wouldn’t let anyone throw it away nor use it after that. Thus it had become his mug, even the Captain and the Marshal had respected that unofficial rule. Although it may have been more out of not wanting a burning hot cup than in deference to Pelna, now that Libertus thought of it.

Either way it had been a stapleton to the tech-savvy ‘galive whenever he was in the War Room, either in hand or near his station at the computers ( again a place that was unofficially claimed as his due to his constant use of that spot ) but none complained nor ribbed him over that given his talents. Whatever offered him the fastest or best avenue to work. After it’d become apparent, none had used that terminal. 

And still after all these years, his favoured coffee mug still stood sentry over the spot. Now dust coated and with mouldly, sticky residue clinging to the inside, but still it stood as it was left, awaiting its owner to return. 

His breathing now a tad heavy, chest aching and lungs constricted, Libertus could almost see the ghostly appropriation of a hand reach past him to wrap their fingers around the mug’s handle and lift it off the table. Following the motion, to see the transparent figure of his late friend tip the mug towards his lips. Equally see-through hued coffee spilling a bit down his chin as he misjudged how full the mug had been. The figure grimaced and jerked back, holding the mug out in front of them. 

A haunting echo of a twin set of laughter had Libertus’ head jerking up towards the other side of the room near the maps table, where two translucent forms of Nyx and Crowe stood chuckling at Pelna’s misfortune with the coffee. The latter having turned to say something to them, which spurred wider smiles and a comeback said by Nyx that was soundless to Libertus’s ears, but not his memory. 

He remembered that day. With less and less reasons for laughter during those last few weeks, hearing it from the pair he considered siblings had caught his attention especially. Despite not witnessing the incident as Nyx and Crowe had, his back having been to them, he pieced it together once he turned. Catching their exchange easily and too sharing in a moment of lightheartedness with those he’d been closest to. 

So easily could he see their grins now etched into the lucent silhouettes from memory, hear the reverberant phantoms of their individual laughter. An ethereal evocation playing out before his eyes in diaphanous detail. Catching Nyx’s gaze turned on him, Libertus’ breath hitched within his chest. Crowe’s followed Nyx’s a moment later and Pelna turned to angle towards him. And for the briefest of moments, it wasn’t some ghostly apparitions but them in full corporeal form and colour. Just as the day it happened. 

But with an unintended blink, the image was gone. Once again he was left alone with an empty, dimly lit room that remained a memorandum of memories. 

Whirling back around, Libertus’ sought out the coffee cup. Gaze, now a slight blurred, focused on the mug. It sat exactly where he had previously found it, the dust around it hadn’t been disturbed. It had only been a waking dream, a hallucination of a happy time now passed.

A low choked noise sputtered from Libertus’ lips then, it turning into an irefull outcry at its end. A virulent anger he hadn’t felt in years, temper having been cooled and tamed by necessity to leadership and want to be better, rose up within him. It had his arms coming up to sweep the mug and whatever else in his path from the tabletop to the floor. Uncaring but to lend a physical and violent voice to this despairing fury that swelled up and was teeming at boil over. 

But he aborted the motion to simply strike one of the computer screens causing it to twist and skitter off the table. His hands came down to brace himself against the top of the workbench, that action lightly jarring the items left, knuckles white against the grip he had on the table’s edge. Loosely his posture bracketed the mug in the space between them. Aside from a slight wobble to its position, it remained undisturbed and wholly intact… apart from its former yet beloved chip. 

Pelna had defended the imperfect inanimate object vehemently and Libertus couldn’t be the one to destroy it. He was already partly responsible for his death, he couldn’t bear to erase anymore of his friend. 

In him they could live on, in sharing his memories of them with anyone he could talk to. He was certain to spread the story of Nyx’s fight with General Glauca, of how he sacrificed himself to ensure the Princess’ safety and thus had given them all a fighting chance to get their homes back. He too had told stories of valiant deeds from Crowe and Pelna’s history, of how they were some of the best the ‘glaive had to offer. Using every chance he could he speak of them. Solidifying every memory he held of them. 

But just as they lived on from memory to spoken word, their personal possessions. Although so very few now, carried an essence of them. An item that drew forth memories of laughter, smiles, and batner deserved to live on, even though it’s owner could not. 

“Ostium.” 

Startled for a second time in as many minutes, Libertus jumped and spun around. Instincts bred of nearly two decades of combat training and first hand fighting experience had his frame reacting before his conscious mind recovered from the fright. Stance widened and frame lowered to ensure proper set of his form, he came back to himself then. Moments away from pulling a weapon, the secondary one he kept concealed on his person at all times. 

“Easy, Libertus. Didn’t mean to scare you.” Came the Marshall’s approximation of an apology. 

The touch of amusement that Libertus caught within the words, years spent in closer company to the former Crownsgarud Commander had lent a new knowledge of ‘The Immortal’ and no doubt revealed plenty of his own idiosyncrasies, had him scoffing again. Attempting to cover the sniffling and clear his throat in the single sound, raising a quick hand to scrub at his face to collect the traces of moisture there. 

“Shoulda kept more alert, me.” Libertus replied, ignoring the way Cor’s eyes narrowed in scrutiny, “Was there something you needed, sir?”

No answer was forthcoming from the Marshall for a handful of moments, staring at Libertus for a fraction of those before he turned to survey the room in much the same way as Libertus had done when he first came in. A tightness having encircled the lined flash around his eyes and the usually stoic set of his mouth. Then in turning back towards the other, he dipped his head to indicate behind Libertus. Turning revealed the black ceramic mug, now tipped over and rolled a slight until its handle caught it in it’s track. 

“There’s nothing wrong in missing them.” Cor finally said, “Neither in showing it. Too much history with everyone to just wish it away or hide it when it comes knocking.” 

Libertus who had been staring aghast at the tipped over mug, the fact it could have suffered worse than it appeared to have nearly sent him to tears once more, but at catching the Marshall’s words, he glanced back. Taking in the older man’s expression, as well knowing what he did from both before and from the time required of them to spend in each other's company in the last several years, Libertus could tell there was more depth to the words than merely good advice. 

Swallowing heavily, Libertus nodded, “Drautos?”

The Marshall’s expression shuttered at the mention of that name, collected and seemingly carved of stone in a mere blink, that eased a moment later. The need for such a quick denial and cover up had long passed, especially in non-judgemental company, well… no longer quick to judge company. Long had arguments over past kinships or closeness with those who’d turncoat been put to rest, most had been deceived whilst the rest had been fuelled by grief and want to protect their born homelands. Thus Cor simply nodded. A distinctly sorrowful degree came to his features then. 

“Drautos.” He repeated, angling himself away as his hand reached towards the conference table at his right where a pen laid. 

Attention caught by the motion, Libertus now noticed it had been the former Kingsgalive captain’s pen, red and black with silver etching of an engraving on it. Hearth and Home it read. A saying that used to hold hope and promise within it, a motivating spur and rallying cry for the ‘galives. And whilst it now held that taint of betrayal, Libertus couldn’t deny the warmth and strength it’d once held when said by the Captain, a Drautos they knew as loyal and dedicated to the Crown as well as the ‘galives under his command. It was most likely what the Marshall mourned the loss of, the loss of what they used to have before everything went to hell. 

Libertus’ averted his gaze at noticing the Marshall palming the pen, it seemed they both would leave with tokens. A place they had both spent with those they had cared deeply for and called loved ones. Of differing meanings it would seem, but still those they both wished they hadn’t lost. In either death or to deceit. Both suffering hauntings and feeling the tug of ghosts at their backs. What ifs and wishes that couldn’t be fulfilled. 

“Muster is pushed back to 0800 in dereference to adjusting with the daylight.” There was no trace of the previous emotions on the Marshall’s face now, nodding back towards the overturned coffee mug, he added, “Take what time you need here.” 

Nodding in both thanks and acceptance of the offer to grieve, Libertus watched the Marshall turn and leave. The other seemed to pause a moment to glance around one last time, he had to wonder what memories had come forth for the Marshall and what ghost were walking before his eyes. A huff of breath he heard, sharp and telling, then departing footfalls and Libertus was alone once again. 

Reaching out again towards the mug, Libertus reverently slipping his fingers round the handle to pick it up. His other hand coming over to brace the bottom. Inspecting it for further damage revealed none. It’d require a good wash, possibly a scrub down too given how long it’s contents had been left sitting, but it wouldn’t be thrown out nor fixed. 

With so little left of them, save memory and stories, it made this chipped and mouldy mug a treasure amongst ruin. He’d keep it just as Pelna had. Clean it and guard against any recyclers or mug thieves. For it was a mug to cheers to and something to look to on days when the ache grew a tad too sharp. It was a reminder, one of repentance and hope, as well as smiles and laughter. Forever memorialised. 

A token of memory. 

Pulling the mug close to his chest, Libertus turned to walk out of the room. Sunlight from the rising dawn spilt in through the open doorway from the ornately paned windows that adorned the wall opposite the threshold. It caused the room to appear brighter, near crystalline with particles shining in the faint sun streams and the multicoloured hues that came from the stained glass the sun shone through. 

A touch sun blind after gazing into the darker area of the room, Libertus squinted at the sudden change. Awaiting for his eyes to adjust, he blinked once. Catching a shimmering threefold outline are the edges of his vision, he narrowed his eyes further in an attempt to make out the strange glimmering shapes. Thinking something in his eyes now. 

Instead it cleared a fraction to reveal the same figures as before, yet they were standing just beside the door. Three transparent silhouettes of his lost friends. Each he could tell were smiling, appearing both happy and at peace. Even though their presence should suggest otherwise, given they were here instead of wherever the passed on went. Why they were here instead of wherever they were supposed to be, Libertus didn’t know. 

_‘You’re worth the wait.’_

The hushed, resonant whisper appeared to come from behind him yet before him and all around him at once. It hauntingly matched up with the mouth movements of the apporation of Nyx but not lining up entirely. 

“Oh hell, you three better not be waiting for me. Get on with whatever you’re supposed to do!” Libertus groused at the three, sniffling heartily and his own smile wobbly, “Go bother your sister, Nyx, take Crowe with you. Pelna go to your family. Don’t wait for my ass to get there.” 

Smiles had turned to grins on their faces, that much Libertus could tell through his lachrymose vision. And again an echoing whisper came from Nyx’s form. The words were oddly reminiscent of a past conversation they had, the final conversation they shared. 

_‘We’ll settle up only once it’s time.’_

“Yeah, well, the time isn’t now. Too much to do still.” Libertus huffed with mock indignance, his breath shuddering lightly in his chest even as he fought to offer a brave faced smile, “Get going before I make you.” 

With that Nyx did that factitious sultry wink he was so damn fond of, Pelna offered a cheers motion towards the coffee mug Libertus held, and Crowe gestured a mock salute off her forehead. Their figures appearing more so insubstantial with each passing second, not blinking out of existence as they had the first time, but slowly fading into the background with a wisp and swirl of the sun highlighted dust. 

That contented peace they had held now mirrored in Libertus, despite his tears.

_END._

**Author's Note:**

>  **A/N:** Thank you to those who stopped by to read this 
> 
> **Note :** Libertus allusion to ‘the canyon incident’ is something that will be explained in another that I have planned to write, it’ll be a part of a fill for my _**BAD THINGS HAPPEN BINGO**_ card. It involves Libterus and Nyx as children.
> 
>  **Note :** I know it’s stated that the Kingsglaive have no true ranking system outside of a Captain who leads them , yet Luche seems to be acting as an unofficial ( but official because the other follow his lead & Drautos even seems to look to him as such ) second-in-command. Whereas Nyx seems to act as a third-in-command , although I could as well argue that Nyx is the SIC with Luche as the TIC seeing as Luche hands over command to Nyx during the rescue of the Princess ( excluding the thoughts that that is a correlation of Luche’s betrayal ) but given that , plus that Pelna seems to be one of the tech experts on the team & Crowe was given a high profile assignment of escorting the Princess along with being one of the only mages left standing after summoning that huge fire tornado , I’m thinking those ‘glaives would definitely be apart of war room meetings. Libertus as well due to his own skill of ‘glaive magic / combat & as well due to the fact he along with Crowe , Nyx , Luche , & Pelna all work so well as a team. So my point is the command structure seems to call for Drautos as Captain , Luche & Nyx as SIC / TIC , then Crowe , Pelna , & Libertus ( Tredd as well probably ) bringing up the third tier of a role like sergeants , then the rest. That’s how I headcanon it at least.
> 
>  **Note :** I’m assuming Pelna was in the war room given he was the one deciphering / comparing coordinates when Nyx commed him about the coordinates , so I’m as well assuming he most likely spent rather a lot of time there given his penchant for technology. So he claimed a favourite mug ( yes he chose the one mug no one else liked / loved ) that was left there in his hurry to assemble the ‘glaive , & he had his ‘own’ station at the computers that he always used, unofficially officially it was his.


End file.
